Making Memories
Going for ice cream was always a treat as a child. There was an excitement around deciding where to go: Friendly’s for a sundae or a frappe, Brigham's for a sundae, a couple of scoops or a raspberry-lime rickey, Dairy Queen for a chocolate dipped cone, or the local dairy that delivered our weekly supply of milk in glass bottles. “The Dairy” as we affectionately called it, was always a favorite because of their flavors, the size of their scoops, proximity to our home, and atmosphere. Lines formed at their windows and families and friends sat in groups on the grass enjoying their treats before climbing back in their cars to drive home. Getting to see the cows in the pasture added to the fun. The Dairy was such a part of my childhood that several years ago my siblings and I stopped there after my father’s funeral for a scoop in his honor.
My grandparents also enjoyed ice cream treats with us when we visited them out of state. My grandfather, particularly, would initiate our trips to their local ice cream parlors. I have a vivid memory of ordering a scoop with “jimmies” - what we called chocolate sprinkles back home. This caused a lot of confusion on everyone’s behalf. I had no idea how to order “chocolate sprinkles” and no one knew what “jimmies” were. To this day, I’ve yet to find jimmies at any place outside of the Dairy. Chocolate sprinkles just are not the same.
I have tried to create fond ice cream-related memories with my family. Strangely enough, it’s been a challenge. When my kids were younger, they were more enthusiastic about it. It was an adventure to see how messy their faces would become and to witness how dirty a child can get from a small ice cream cone. My daughter would often order an empty fancy cone, the kind that is dipped in chocolate and has rainbow sprinkles on top. At first, I was a little shocked when she insisted that she didn’t want any ice cream and only wanted a cone, but quickly accepted her preference. A happy child with an empty cone was much better than a child with melting ice cream that they would play with but not eat. The bonus was that I wouldn’t have to look for hidden ice cream drips in her armpits or behind her knees. During a visit with my dad, he was equally, if not more surprised, by her preference for the empty, fancy cone, but quickly accepted it when I explained that it really wasn’t so different from her ordering a cookie. He shrugged, smiled and agreed. (It turns out that my daughter is lactose intolerant and her dislike of ice cream was most likely her body’s way of saying that it didn’t want the dairy.)
Getting back to creating ice cream memories with my family…. It turns out that neither of my kids really like ice cream (including dairy-free flavors) that much. They have declined my ice cream for dinner suggestions on hot summer nights and are not interested in picking up a quick milkshake or sno-cone when out and about. This weekend, my husband and I took them to a new frozen yogurt place - the type of place where you serve yourself out of machines on the wall. We didn’t tell them in advance where we were going because I knew they both would have refused, but I wanted to see how they would react and see if they would order after being able to freely sample all the flavors and serve themselves. As it turned out, only my husband and I ate; my kids helped themselves to cups of water.
It isn’t that my kids don’t like sweets. They love them. Their favorite treats are found in candy stores, convenience stores or gas stations. They can spend a considerable amount of time perusing the snack aisles and deciding between just the right bag of candy and then try to negotiate the largest size they can. Then they try to add to their selection: “Please mom, just 1 hard boiled egg. It’s healthy!” “Mom, just a beef stick. Please. I’m starving.” “Can I have a bag of chips, too? I want something salty and sweet and can’t decide.”
I’m OK knowing that my kids’ memories around ice cream will be different from mine. I’ve learned to take deep breaths and practice patience while they examine each item in the gas station and am working on balancing my personal thoughts around the bags of candy they covet with the knowledge that I’m creating their memories. I will insist, though, on a trip to the Dairy the next time we’re in my hometown to order a scoop with jimmies. I imagine them indulging me while they drink water before insisting on a trip to the closest gas station.
